


Dancing With Ghosts

by aprilvolition



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: Angst, F/M, Holidays, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-01
Updated: 2012-01-01
Packaged: 2017-10-28 16:40:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/309885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aprilvolition/pseuds/aprilvolition
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Angel's alone on Christmas Eve and someone pulls a few strings to pay him a visit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dancing With Ghosts

It's not home anymore, but it used to be, and the feeling is sharper here where the details of his memories are more easily filled in.

Angel breathes in and tastes stale air. Dust has settled on every surface like fallen snow, but it's far from pristine. His fingertips leave trails as he runs them across the counter in the lobby, and the sound of her voice is as clear as the day she said the words.

 _I love you._

 _You should do that more often._

Its been more than a decade since he's been to the Hyperion, decades more since its been lived in. They're all long gone, and he's still here–still fighting.

He never could let go though, but he did go on with his life. He's met others along the way, people he's considered friends, and even family. But those who began the journey with him and lived inside these walls will always be his first, and Cordy will always be what made them whole. The heart.

Body suddenly heavy, he sits on the stairs and his eyes slip closed as he leans his head against the railing. He lets memories wash over him, lulling him to sleep.

\------------------------

 

She stops in front of him where he sits at the bottom of the stairs and he can feel the warmth radiating from her body, and some of the cold, loneliness seeps out at her nearness.

Toes touching the bottom step, she's firmly planted herself between his knees. When she reaches out to run her fingers through his hair, it's like gravity pulling him in. His hands slide up the outside of her thighs, enjoying the feel of her red satin dress as they make their journey to finally rest on her hips.

He looks up at her then, and he thinks she's far from being an angel but she's the closest thing to salvation he's ever known. Her hazel eyes shine with an unconditional love only she could give a damaged soul such as his.

He leans forward to rest his forehead against her stomach. Her nails continue to scratch lightly across his scalp in hypnotic motions as her other hand moves to grasp his shoulder as though she's trying to hold him in place.

"I thought I taught you better than to brood on Christmas, Angel," she says, voice breaking the silence, but not the spell. He turns his head to the side, the fabric of her dress scraping across his skin, and smiles.

"You did."

She takes one of his hands in hers as she steps away, lightly pulling him as she goes. He follows, and she gives him a triumphant smirk at his blind obedience.

There are white Christmas lights lining the doorframe of the entrance, along with a wreath hanging above. A few white tapered candles and tea lights decorate various surfaces of the hotel lobby. But most noticeable is the eight foot tree, with multicolored lights and all the trimmings.

Including a glowing white star on top.

Then there's the music, which he's certain wasn't there before. An instrumental version of some Christmas Carol from his time by the sound of it.

Not that it matters. He's dancing with Cordy.

Her breath tickles the skin of his neck as her head rests on his shoulder. He has one hand held tightly in his between their bodies as they sway slightly to the music.

When her head lifts, he sees the lights dancing in her eyes moments before her lips touch his. He feels the phantom beat of his heart like echoes in an empty cave, and a warmth no dead thing should ever be lucky enough to feel.

When her mouth opens beneath his and he tastes her, he's finally home.

She's breathless when they pull apart. Her tanned skin flushed and lips swollen from his kiss. He doesn't want to stop, even if he knows they should. She reads his mind like she always does, and responds to the longing in his eyes with familiar words.

"We take what we can get, champ, and we do our best with it."

She loosens her hand from his, and presses her palm flat against his chest. She looks up at him then, a bit of sadness in her eyes, but it hasn't erased the love still shining through. She leans in, her mouth ghosting across his, and whispers as she pulls away, "I'm here, Angel. I'm always..." She presses the hand on his chest a bit harder against his un-beating heart. "…Here."

Suddenly the Christmas lights are dimming, and the candles flicker in a strange wind. He kisses her once more before everything goes dark, and feels her being pulled away despite using every ounce of strength to keep her with him.

Then, it's like falling down a rabbit hole. Her words follow him into consciousness.

 

\-----------------------------

 _Merry Christmas, Angel._

Her voices resonates inside him as he comes to, but he can't hold onto the dream indefinitely.

It's still dark out, but he can feel dawn approaching. He picks his head up off the railing slowly, wincing at the soreness from a night spent with his head against a hard surface. For a vampire with a healing factor, it's pretty sad how much his body aches from falling asleep on the stairs.

He's working out the kinks when he notices it.

On the worn gray couch in the lobby, sits a tiny box with shiny red wrapping paper and a gold ribbon, illuminated by a single sliver of light coming out of the darkness.

Images and feelings come rushing at him faster than lightning as realization dawns. Whatever last night was, it wasn't just a dream, and Santa didn't leave him a present.

He smiles crookedly, and knows if Cordy were here she'd call him a dork for the way he's grinning stupidly at the tiny box on the other side of the room.

He shakes his head and walks over.

The sliver of light fades as he approaches, and as soon as the present is in his hand, the light disappears all together. He has no idea what she's given him, and as much as he's dying to know, a thought stops him from tearing it open.

He's had two more Christmas miracles than most people, much less vampires, ever receive. He doesn't have high hopes for a third. If he saves this present for when he really needs another one, he won't have to wait for someone else to give it to him.

Decision made, Angel pockets the tiny box in his leather jacket, and whispers into the dark, "Merry Christmas, Cordy."


End file.
